FILM REVIEW; Muscling In And Letting Anger Out The Door

The American fascination with power extends down to its lowest levels, which in the case of Steven Cantor's documentary ''Bounce: Beyond the Velvet Rope'' would seem to consist of the burly, battle-scarred young men whose job it is to chuck unruly patrons out of nightclubs.

The film, made for HBO but getting a theatrical release at the Angelika Film Center, takes way too much time to make one very important distinction: that between the bouncer and the doorman. It's the doorman at a club who possesses the real power: the ability to decide who gets in and who does not, based on some hard to define notion of the proper mix of class, race, gender and degree of hipness.

The bouncers, like those profiled here, are just the muscle -- there to back up the doorman's decisions and to correct his occasional mistakes by tossing out those who shouldn't have been allowed inside in the first place.

Mr. Cantor's casually shot and loosely assembled film profiles seven professional bouncers working both here and in England. The picture is obsessed with strength and the use of physical force, though its attitudes are often slippery.

At times the film seems simply awed, as when it concentrates on the genuinely frightening Jordan Maldonado, a former Golden Gloves champ, ex-con and happily married man with two young sons. Mr. Maldonado's domestic skills are not much on display when he goes to work at Manhattan clubs. ''I love the violence; the violence is the best part,'' Mr. Maldonado tells the filmmaker, ''I hope and pray that you cross that line.''

Plenty of people do cross that line in the course of ''Bounce,'' and Mr. Maldonado deals with them with evident glee. He seems lucky to have found in the bouncing business a socially acceptable outlet for his energy. He seems to be filled with the same kind of anger that fuels the skinhead movement.

When Mr. Cantor is facing less intimidating subjects, his attitude shifts to one of open ridicule. Coming in for most of the film's ribbing are Mike and Frank DeMaio, generally acknowledged to be the only twin bouncers in the business. When Mike and Frank aren't tossing a football around, they pursue other hobbies, like pasting clippings in their Sylvester Stallone scrapbook or going in for tanning sessions two or three times a week. Bruisers they may be, but the twins come across more as frisky, not-too-bright puppies than as slobbering German shepherds.

Two of Mr. Cantor's protagonists are from England, which apparently has a rich bouncing culture of its own. Alan Crosley is a soft-spoken, professed Christian who can quote Shakespeare when the mood strikes, but who prefers handling obnoxious customers in their most pliable state -- knocked unconscious.

London's Lenny McLean appears in the film as a grizzled veteran of 48 punishing years, complete with bullet holes and the stories that go with them. An engaging talker with a colorful working-class accent, Mr. McLean landed a role in Guy Ritchie's 1998 film ''Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels'' after his part in ''Bounce'' was shot. He published an autobiography, saw it rise to No. 1 on the British best-seller lists, and six weeks later died of lung and brain cancer.

If Mr. McLean comes across as an oddly noble character, it is probably because he still relies on a good right hook at a time when urban violence has shifted to the less demanding and more lethal possibilities of semi-automatic weapons. Here, at least, is an honest tradesman, working with his hands and living on his skills.

BOUNCE

Behind the Velvet Rope

Written and directed by Steven Cantor; music by Samantha Maloney; produced by Mr. Cantor and Daniel Laikind; released by Artistic License Films. At the Angelika Film Center, Mercer and Houston Streets, Greenwich Village. Running time: 77 minutes. This film is not rated.